


Time, Make it Go Faster or Just Rewind

by cyrene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-10-27 19:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrene/pseuds/cyrene
Summary: Teddy Lupin and Jamie Potter have made a huge mistake, and now they have no choice but to see it through.Featuring time travel, lots of romance, and fixing ALL THE THINGS!





	1. Teddy Lupin

**Author's Note:**

> Um, are you even ready for this? Because I am not. I know where this is going but I am also flying by the seat of my pants here.
> 
> I'm aware at the dearth of time travel and fix it fics out there, so I thank you for taking the time to visit mine.
> 
> Title is from the Lenka song "Like a Song". Go listen to that to get you in the mood. [ https://youtu.be/hKYQwbRsFPk ](https://youtu.be/hKYQwbRsFPk)

The office was not tidy, to say the least, but then Teddy Lupin had never been particularly fastidious about cleanliness in the way his father had been. (In the way he’d heard his father had been, at least.) But when his secretary told him who was at the door, he made a sincere three minutes worth of effort to combat the worst of it.

“Don’t clean on my account,” she said a no nonsense way, though the corners of her mouth were turned ever so slightly up.

“Wouldn’t want you thinking I work in squalor,” Teddy said sheepishly.

“And, what, reporting back to your godfather?” Hermione Granger-Weasley did laugh then, if only a little. “I recall his dorm at Hogwarts and his bachelor flat. You have nothing to fear, from me or him.”

“Well, then,” Teddy grinned, “do, ah, sit down.” He grabbed a pile of files off of the sofa and dumped them on his desk. “Tea?”

“Mmm,” Hermione nodded, but she was looking at the record player in the corner. “That was your father’s,” she said with a little smile, and Teddy nodded because he had known that. “He used to play it when he needed to concentrate. Though I never understood how he could concentrate on marking papers or planning missions with The Stooges on.”

Teddy felt that familiar tug in his heart, the one he always felt when he learned something new about his father, or thought too hard about him in general. It was different with his mother; Teddy had grown up with his maternal grandmother and learned all sorts of things about Nymphadora Tonks as he grew up. But Remus Lupin had left no family behind, and remained something of a mystery to Teddy.

He passed Hermione a cup of tea and set out some biscuits that weren’t too far off. Then he settled in behind his desk, because Hermione Granger-Weasley did not do wellness checks. She was here for a reason.

“What can I do for you, Hermione?” he asked, taking a slightly too hot sip of tea. It was just the way he liked it.

She smiled at him genuinely this time, and he took it to mean she appreciated him not wasting her time.

“Jamie Potter’s found something… interesting. Routing out a nest of villainous scum, as I understand Aurors generally do, he found a device which I would like your expert opinion on.”

Teddy tried very hard not to flush, but being called an expert by Hermione Granger-Weasley was quite the heady experience, particularly for someone who had grown up intimidated by her.

“I’ve already discussed payment with your secretary, and that should be no problem.” She paused, then frowned, then added, “Though you really aren’t charging enough you know. You should value your time and work better.”

Teddy bit back a laugh and nodded in acquiescence, because what else could you do with Hermione?

  
*

  
Teddy arrived first thing in the morning, coffee in hand. It was his second of the day. There was a Starbucks down the street from his flat and, as Teddy dressed exclusively in Muggle clothing, he was able to stop there frequently enough to keep him going.

“Oh, is that for me?” Jamie asked, reaching for the other cup Teddy held.

“Caramel latte,” Teddy confirmed as Jamie took a sip and groaned.

“Bless you, Tedward,” he said, using the joke name Jamie, Al, and Lils had thought funny as children.

“So, I hear you have something big to show me,” Teddy said.

Jamie winked. “Boy, do I ever, Lupin!” and Teddy snorted coffee.

“’S not what I meant, but if you’re really that proud of it, hell, I’ll be your boyfriend!”

“If only,” Jamie sighed dramatically. “But business first, pal. You’ve got to tell me what the hell this thing is.”

It was kept in the Department of Mysteries, which explained Hermione’s involvement.

“Huh,” Teddy said, perplexed. “Look, I know we both grew up in the Wizarding world, but Jamie… that’s an alarm clock. I admit, it’s an analog, and an antique, but --"

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Look closer, Lupin. And for goodness sake use your wand. I’m not here to pull your leg.”

A part of Teddy doubted that, but he took his wand out anyway and did a few diagnostic spells. And then a few more.

“Huh.”

“I know, right?”

“Jamie, this is…”

“A time machine?” Jamie’s eyes were lit up with excitement.

“Time machines don’t exist,” Teddy said, feeling the need to point out the obvious. “I mean, there used to be time turners, sure, but this…”

“This is no time turner,” Jamie agreed.

“Where did you find this again?”

“Couple of Death Eaters had it in their lair.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Oh, lord, are there still Death Eaters about?”

Jamie shrugged. “Voldemort has had a bit of a lasting effect, I’d say.”

Teddy stared at the object. It was sitting, unassuming, on a black cushion, which made its slightly tarnished surface gleam a little brighter. It was not, as he had previously thought, an alarm clock, though it did have similarities to one. For starters –

“Jamie, this is from the sixteenth century, at least.”

“Okay, good start. We were having a hard time dating it.”

Teddy reached a hand out, then stopped himself. “May I…? Will it…?”

“Go ahead,” Jamie nodded. “It won’t hurt you just to touch it, I don’t think.”

Teddy carefully picked up the… the time machine, adjusting his glasses with one hand out of habit more than anything.

It looked to be made of brass. There were three brass hands of increasing size, three brass dials on the back, presumably to wind them. The face was probably white or cream at one point, but had yellowed slightly with age. Around the face were a series of Roman numerals up to the number twelve, just like a real clock. On the back, a symbol etched into the metal.

“Talk to me,” a voice intruded as if from far away. “What do you see?”

Not a voice. Jamie Potter’s voice. Teddy felt himself come back to the present.

“This, right here, is the symbol of Leonardo da Vinci. He only used it on his wizarding work. Do you think you could get authorization to have his journals brought in?”

Jamie laughed. “I could probably get authorization to piss on them if it helps you explain this.”

“Well, I think we’ll hold off on that for the time being,” Teddy replied wryly.

  
*

  
The wizarding journals of Leonardo da Vinci were kept under strict lock and key, much like the Magna Carta or the Constitution of the United States of America. The only difference was that the wards were magical, not mechanical. Teddy didn’t know what kind of strings Hermione Granger-Weasley had pulled, but he was sure this was as average a day for her as it was extraordinary for him.

Teddy and Jamie spent about an hour going through the journals before they found something.

“Here, Ted,” Jamie said, pointing to the parchment in front him.

Teddy stood and walked to where Jamie was sitting, examining his portion of the journals. Sure enough, the specs were all drawn out there. Drawings and writing, little notes here and there, Teddy read it all, and things started coming together.

Teddy was taking notes frantically in his leather-bound journal. If he was going to do this, he would do it right. He could hear Jamie pacing behind him, and stopped writing.

“Ye-es?” Teddy asked, a little irritably.

“Food, Lupin. Have you heard of it?” Jamie asked, rolling his eyes.

Teddy stretched and thought about that. His stomach growled, sounding much louder in the quiet of the Department of Mysteries. It made Jamie laugh, and that made Teddy laugh too.

“Fish and chips,” he told Jamie. “And a pint. On you this time.”

  
*

  
The thing Teddy Lupin liked about Jamie Potter was that, even though he was not particularly philosophical, he was always willing to entertain Teddy’s moods.

Over dinner, they talked about Leonardo da Vinci, and time, and the nature of good and evil, and whether the government could be trusted. Teddy talked a lot, rather, and Jamie listened carefully, interjecting his own opinions and occasionally playing devil’s advocate or cracking a joke.

It was around the third pint that they started talking about what they would do, what they would change, with access to a real time machine.

“’s all theoretical, course,” Teddy pointed out. “But I guess I’d just like to meet my parents.”

“Aww,” Jamie cooed, but it wasn’t in a mean or teasing way. They were both a little tipsy was all.

By the fifth pint, they were verbally sketching out a timeline of world history since the fifties or sixties, trying to determine the best place at which to stop Voldemort’s rise.

“I say, about a year before James and Lily Potter went into hiding,” Teddy mused. “If you could catch him then, you’d save half the first Order.”

“Only if you think you could keep Pettigrew from defecting,” Jamie pointed out. He interrupted Teddy’s protestation with a wave. “But of course you do; you’re an idealist. You probably already had him on your list of people to save.”

“He was my father’s, and your grandfather’s, friend,” Teddy reminded him. “And he helped save your father in the end. I don’t know that he was evil, just frightened.”

Jamie though about that seriously, which Teddy liked about him. “Still think you’d have to go back far enough to kill baby Tom Riddle.”

“You could kill a baby?”

“The most evil baby ever?” Teddy stared him down. Jamie shrugged. “No. Maybe give him to Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?”

“You’d alter the timeline, then, and probably not even exist,” Teddy pointed out.

Now it was Jamie’s turn to stare him down. “If I had to not exist to set history right, that is a sacrifice I would gladly make.”

Teddy shifted uncomfortably. “Theoretically speaking,” he said.

“Theoretically speaking,” Jamie said with a nod and a grin.

  
*

  
A week later, Teddy was puttering around the flat, in his pajamas, making a little cup of tea to drink while he read before bedtime. There was a new history of the First War with Voldemort out that he wanted to read, especially since the index had, under L, listed “Lupin, Remus J.” along with several page numbers.

He had just set down his cup and was about to settle into his favorite reading chair when there was a knock at the door. Confused, as he was not expecting anyone, Teddy hesitated in case he was just hearing – no, there was another knock.

Looking through the peephole, Teddy saw a shadowy figure, and not much else. Definitely Muggle clothing. Perhaps someone was lost?

Then the figure turned slightly, the light caught them, and Teddy could see that it was Jamie Potter.

“Jamie?” Teddy asked, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

Jamie looked the same as when he was seven years old and broke Gran Andie's prize vase while Ted was babysitting him. The look was one part mischievous, one part defiance, and one part guilt. All parts adorable.

“James Sirius Potter,” Teddy said with all the adultness he could muster, “what have you done now?”


	2. Neville Longbottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the second chapter ready, so why not post it? Complete with a nod to HIMYM.

  


Neville Longbottom had adjusted to certain facts about life early on. By the time he was eleven he had accepted that he would never be very good at anything, never exceptional. By the time he was fourteen he had accepted that he would never be very good with girls. And by the time he was seventeen he had accepted that he was completely, irrevocably in love with someone who would never love him back.

Some of Neville’s acceptances turned out to not be true. He applied himself and turned out to be adequate, magically, except in Herbology, where he really shone. Since the last year or so, he had really gained confidence in himself, and girls had begun to notice him. Not that it mattered any more, because that last one, the unrequited love one, was still true. Neville knew better than to hope for change on that front.

Neville set his Guide to Magickal Plants of Wales down with a sigh. He had a triple date that night: Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and Neville and some girl who was probably pretty desperate if she were willing to go out with him. He really would rather have been studying, especially as he had a test on Monday morning, but Harry had insisted. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Harry had asked, and told him it was absolutely no bother, and then asked again, and that was all it took for Neville to reluctantly agree.

He, like most people, would do anything for Harry Potter. But Neville felt that way because he knew Harry, and knew that Harry would never take advantage of people’s tendency to give him what he wanted. It would be hard for anyone not to like such a humble bloke, not to want to make someone that good happy when one could.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Neville called, wondering if perhaps it was one of those leftover Death Eaters he’d heard about, come to spare him from his date.

But, no. It was Ginny Weasley, looking lovely as always in a pale yellow sun dress.

“Neville,” was the first thing she said. “You are not going out with Blahblah dressed like that!”

The girl’s name was not actually Blahblah, of course, but Neville was, at this point, embarrassed to say that that was all he heard any time anyone mentioned her: Blah blah blah.

Neville looked down at his cardigan and khaki, and shrugged. “I hadn’t thought,” he began.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Of course you hadn’t,” she said, making her way to his closet where she immediately began rooting around as if it were her own. “But Blahblah is rather posh, and where we’re going tonight you’ll want to look your best.”

When she surfaced again, it was with a blackish-maroon button down shirt that Neville had never worn, a black vest, and a pair of black slacks he knew were too tight.

Neville sighed. “Gin, I can’t go out like that.”

“Why not? You’d look dead sexy in this.”

Neville blushed furiously and lost his train of thought for a second. “Well, I… I can’t… if my Gran saw me in those trousers, she’d take me shopping for sure!”

Ginny eyed him skeptically. “Pretty sure your Gran isn’t going to be at the Veela Villa tonight. You’ll be fine. Blahblah will love it.”

And that was what was truly important, wasn’t it?

  
*

  
Neville was having a terrible time. Blahblah talked incessantly about herself, so it was a wonder that Neville didn’t actually retain any knowledge about her. The other couples were all chatting with each other and Blahblah (Camille, her name was Camille) when they weren’t dancing or obtaining more drinks than Neville thought was strictly necessary. That didn’t stop him from taking his turn at the round -- it would only be polite – he just thought that perhaps everyone ought to slow down, and maybe go somewhere quieter. Especially if they wanted him to pretend to be interested in the life story of an heiress.

Neville tried a trick his psychealer had taught him about counting good things instead of dwelling on bad ones.

Camille was almost as tall as Neville, who had gotten quite tall once puberty hit, and that was refreshing. She was absolutely gorgeous, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and seemed to be everything one would think a young single man might be interested in.

But she didn’t care a whit about Herbology. And she definitely let Neville know it.

But she insisted the ladies each take a round too, in the name of feminism, and that was pretty cool of her.

But she had no professional aspirations.

But…

Neville was very tired. Bl—Camille was staring at him.

“Sorry, what?” he asked.

“I asked, would you like to dance with me?” she said irritably.

Ginny and Harry were looking at him, expecting something.

Neville smiled, and said of course, and warned her that he was a terrible dancer.

“With an arse like that, it hardly matters,” she said into his ear as they went out onto the floor. Neville blushed again, for once grateful for all the noise – no one could have heard her say that.

They danced, the six of them, in pairs and as a group, and Neville wasn’t lying when he said he was bad at it, but he actually had a good time. They played a lot of modern music, new post-war stuff that reminded him of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, and their diatribes against disco. They would hate this stuff, Neville thought and it was accompanied by the guilty feeling he always got when he thought of the dead.

His psychealer had worked on that a lot too. He was suppose to remind himself that he deserved to survive the war as much as anyone else, and that no one’s death was his fault. Neville hadn’t quite got the trick of it yet, though.

  
*

  
He did not accompany Camille past her doorstep that night, though the offer was plainly there. He pretended to misunderstand her and blatantly yawned, saying he was knackered from the dancing before wishing her a good night and apparating the hell out of there.

Neville got back to his flat with little trouble and, yawning for real this time, readied himself for bed.

Harry and Ginny’s engagement party had been quite a success, he thought, and allowed one drunken tear to slip down his cheek before he buried his face in his pillow and passed out.  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cher bebe. :'(


	3. Sirius Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh, did someone ask for Chapter Three? No one? Bueller?
> 
> P.s., you can thank Sirius Fucking Black for the rating going up.

Sirius pulled up to the flat on a motorbike that could fly if he wanted it to. Sirius loved flying, but they really needed to fit in in this Muggle neighborhood and that meant no flying, no wand waving, and no snogging with the curtains open.

That last one was a shame. Sirius had a recurring dream about Remus fucking him up against the window pane in their living room, where anyone passing by could see him, and know how well he took it. In the dream he always felt turned on by how embarrassed he was, and that said a lot about him, Sirius thought.

As he entered the flat, it was to the sounds of David Bowie. So Remus was in a good mood. Sirius grinned, hanging his black leather jacket on the hook by the door and putting his keys in the bowl.

He had been trained well.

“I smell curry!” he called out as he rounded the corner into the living room. He could see Remus on the other side of the counter, wearing an apron.

Wearing only an apron.

“Hello,” Remus said with a Marauderly grin. “You’re just in time.”

Something clicked in Sirius’s mind. “You got the job!” he exclaimed, jumping up and down, and damn the people below them.

“I got the job!” Remus acknowledged, holding his arms out wide for Sirius to jump into them, and jump he did. They hugged tightly, squealing in a completely unmanly fashion before Remus finally let go.

“They think I’ve got cancer,” he said quiet and guilty. “But it will get me the two days off a month I need for, you know. Chemo.”

Sirius, having earned one of his NEWTS in Muggle Studies, got the reference. But he would have got it anyway, because “My Mum has cancer" was Remus’s first year excuse for his disappearances every month. He had been well versed in modern Muggle cancer treatment by the time Peter had ignorantly asked if Chemotherapy was more potent during the full moon or what.

Sirius poured the wine while Remus dished out the curry. He could see a little pink cake on the counter too. He wasn’t sure they would make it that far.

During dinner, all they talked about was Remus’s new job at the book shop. Sirius knew it wasn’t much, and it used exactly zero percent of his boyfriend’s talent and education, but he was happy that Remus was happy.

Sirius would have been perfectly content to have Remus keep house, and cook, and balance the cheque book, and take care of all the annoying things Sirius didn’t like to do. But Remus was not built to do nothing all day, not made to be kept like that. Really, that was Sirius. Sirius could do all that, easily, even the bits he didn’t like, like budgeting. He could do that, for Remus. But Remus was a werewolf, and eternally frightened of being homeless, so they both needed to have a profession to ease his mind.

Sirius had just started his study of medicine, and, like most schoolwork it was boring because Sirius tended to know more than he could really let on. But how was he to explain all the healing spells he knew? They certainly didn’t teach them at Hogwarts, and Sirius was fresh out of school.

So things weren’t perfect. Their life was theirs, though, and the future was bright, and that was all that mattered.

They finished eating dinner. Sirius could feel his heart thumping as he waited, hoping –

“Get your collar,” Remus ordered, his voice firm but still light.

Sirius obeyed with alacrity, grabbing the collar out of the bedroom drawer and almost sliding to his knees. He took a calming breath before offering up the leather band in both hands, his chin tilted up, but eyes cast down.

“You’re such a good boy,” Remus told Sirius as he fastened the collar, and Sirius could have burst from happiness then and there.

“Thank you, Sir,” he murmured, squirming with pleasure and anticipation.

Things were about to get fun.

  
*

  
They were sharing a cigarette in bed, after. Sirius's head was on Remus’s chest, Remus’s left arm around him as he passed the cigarette with his right.

“I don’t think,” Sirius sighed, “that things will ever get more perfect than this.”

  
*

  
Sirius got out of class early the next day, because an attack on Muggle London necessitated the Professor’s presence at St. Mungo's. It was all hands on deck, apparently. Sirius ached, inside, to join them and be of some use, but even if he could it would be with spells he wasn’t supposed to know yet.

“You’re looking very… serious today,” a voice said with quiet glee.

Sirius, who recognized its owner immediately, startled.

“Dumbles?” he said to cover his surprise.

“In the flesh, though I do not make a habit of allowing people to call me that. May we talk, Sirius? In private, preferably.”

“Remus is at work,” Sirius said slowly, trying to remember just how bad the flat looked after last night and deciding it was okay enough.

Dumbledore smiled, his old eyes crinkling behind his half moon spectacles. “Excellent. Lead on, Mr. Black. I think a walk would be lovely, this time of year.”

They talked about everything on the way to Sirius’s flat, while simultaneously managing to talk about nothing at all. Sirius noticed, in particular, that Dumbledore did not once mention that there was a war on.

That let Sirius know, at least, what it was Dumbledore really wanted to talk about.

His heartrate sped up as he thought about the war. Sirius had always been an adrenaline junkie, but this was heavy stuff. The call was coming, though, and Sirius Black would answer it.

They got to the flat safely, after stopping for a moment so Dumbledore could transfigure his robes into a luridly purple suit. It still looked a bit… well, gay, but not entirely out of place. It was the seventies, after all.

Sirius set about making tea as soon as they were inside. Luckily, he always bought the good stuff to spoil Remus. He didn’t know if Remus would feel comfortable with him serving Dumbledore just anything. Remus tended to be proud, in the best sense.

“So,” he said when they were situated across the table from each other. “This war is looking pretty bad, eh?”

“That,” replied Dumbledore, is exactly what I have come to talk to you about.

  
*

  
“Not without Remus,” Sirius had said. “I won’t keep secrets like that from him.”

But Dumbledore had already recruited Remus, and James. Peter was next on his list, apparently.

Sirius sat on the couch, waiting for Remus to return. He wasn’t hurt that Remus hadn’t told him. Dumbledore had probably seen him on his lunch break, was all, and he hadn’t had time to tell Sirius yet. What a relief, then, that they would be able to talk about this when he got home from work.

  
*

  
That night they made love gently, carefully, blissfully unaware of what would soon come to pass. They, like most people, were unaware that they were making history.


	4. James Sirius Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad Jamie. Go sit in the corner.

Teddy Lupin looked horrified, as well he should. Jamie had done a terrible, terrible thing.

The time machine sat in front of them on the coffee table, staring at them. They sat side by side, staring at it.

“Are you drunk, at least?” Teddy asked him. “High? Because I could excuse this if you were drunk.”

Jamie almost laughed, but this situation was too serious. “Stone sober, unfortunately.”

“Then what the hell were you thinking?” Teddy wanted to know, and that was a very good question. Teddy’s hair, which tended to shift to reflect his moods, was a bright red. Technicolor red. Ruby slippers red. Jamie wondered what that meant for him.

“We were talking about, you know, fixing things, and I just thought --"

“That you’d steal an ancient da Vinci artifact from the Department of Mysteries?” Teddy interrupted sharply. “Stupid, Jamie. Phenomenally so. And you’ve brought me in on it! What are we going to do now?”

They were silent for a full five minutes, just staring at the time machine.

“Well,” said Jamie, “we could… you know.”

Teddy glared sideways at him. “We are not going back in time and killing baby Tom Riddle.”

“Well, no. Of course not. We both agreed that we could not kill a baby, even one who would certainly grow up evil. But if we went back to 1979…”

“OH MY GODS FROM ALLAH TO ZOROASTER, Jamie! What the hell were you thinking?” Teddy rubbed his face. The six years between them, between twenty three and twenty nine, seemed like a very long time just then, much longer than it usually did.

Jamie dug his heels in and got defensive. “I don’t care if I won’t exist,” he insisted. “Just think of all the lives we would save, all the First Order members, and innocent Muggles – hell, Albus Dumbledore would still be kicking!”

He could see Teddy stop and consider this, and that was what he’d always liked about Teddy: he gave even the craziest of notions his full consideration before accepting or rejecting them.

The clocked stood on the table in front of them, silently judging Jamie for what his family had always called his “Marauderly nature".

“We need Harry Potter,” Teddy said finally.

“What?!” Jamie exploded, standing up from the couch. “We are not telling my dad about this!”

“I didn’t say we were,” Teddy assured him. “I said we need Harry Potter, and there was a time when he was not your father. If we were to go back, we would need someone who knows all about how to defeat Voldemort, and quickly. If we catch him maybe a year or two after the Battle of Hogwarts, he should be good to go, while still remembering everything we need him to know.”

Jamie sat down again, gingerly, next to Teddy. “So, you’re in?” he asked.

Teddy hesitated, then nodded. “I’m already in for a knut, I may as well be in for a galleon.”

Jamie grinned with immense relief. He hadn’t wanted to do this by himself, hadn’t really thought he could without someone as smart and steady and Teddy Lupin, just as Teddy could never have done it without someone as impulsive and brash as Jamie. They made a good team, always had since childhood.

“If we’re going to do this,” Teddy said, pulling out the moleskin notebook in which he had been taking notes on the time machine, “we need to do it right. Research. Make a timeline. Make sure there are no surprises.”

Jamie nodded his agreement. No surprises would be good, in this instance.

  
*

  
Teddy lived in a Muggle neighborhood and, as such, had no access to the Floo Network, so they only had to worry about people popping by in person. Still, they did their research quickly, staying up all night and the next day taking notes on everything from Voldemort’s family line to the name of Sirius Black's motorbike. (As to why it was called Lola, they did not know.)

Teddy was getting punch-drunk, Jamie could tell, but he knew better than to mention it, because going without sleep for so long had made Teddy little snappy.

It took until the next evening for someone to come knocking at the door. Teddy glanced through the peephole.

“It’s Hermione and your dad,” he whispered. “If we’re doing this, we need to get going.”

Jamie felt a thrill of fear in his gut, but he nodded, handing Teddy the time machine.

“Okay,” Teddy said, winding the dials as the knocking on his door grew louder and more insistent, “hold onto me.”

Once Jamie had a good grip on his arm, Teddy flipped the switch on the back, Jamie felt a tugging in his gut, and, for a moment, everything went black.

  
*

  
Jamie opened his eyes and took a look around him. They were in the apartment still. He felt disappointed until he realized that the knocking had stopped.

“Did it work?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet just in case.

“I think so,” Teddy said, looking around. “This is not my stuff. We need to get out of here.”

Deciding that the front door was too dangerous, they snuck out through a window, which Jamie closed and locked using his wand.

“What now?” he asked.

Teddy shrugged. “We determine if it’s really 1999.”

“Corner shop? Check a newspaper?”

“Good as any. But remember, we don’t have any Muggle money.”

“So no tea,” Jamie said, a little disappointed.

“No tea. If we need to, we can stop by Gringott's.”

“Later,” Jamie nodded. “First, let’s find the Boy Who Lived.”

  
*

  
Jamie’s father, after defeating the Dark Lord, had taken a flat with Neville Longbottom in a posh Wizarding neighborhood, where he lived until he married Jamie’s mother.

It wasn’t that either of them needed a roommate for financial reasons, his dad had explained, but because neither of them wanted to live alone. Jamie, who had lived all his life with siblings and roommates, understood well. Of course, Professor Longbottom eventually got his own place when Jamie’s parents married. Jamie wondered if it had been as much of an adjustment as it had been for him. Living alone was not particularly fun. Jamie got lonely easily.

Teddy, as the one with the notebook full of information, was leading the way to the apartment that Jamie’s father would still be sharing with Professor Longbottom for at least another year.

The newspaper had confirmed for them that it was New Year’s Eve, 1999. Teddy explained that he hadn’t really thought about the date he was choosing, and had just shot for any time in 1999. Jamie still didn’t understand how the time machine worked, but that was Teddy for you.

The flats were posh, moreso than Jamie expected from his father, who liked to keep things simple.

“I guess the Boy Who Lived can’t just live anywhere,” he joked, and Teddy glanced sideways at him.

“There’s protection spells all over this place. We won’t even be able to get into the lobby unless someone buzzes us in.”

“So it’s a stakeout,” Jamie said. “He has to go in or come out some time.”

So they waited. Jamie was used to stakeouts, and had the ability to wait patiently for his quarry. Teddy, however, got fidgety after about twenty minutes and started going through the notebook, muttering to himself and occasionally making a note with a ballpoint pen. Jamie loved that he used Muggle technology when it was more convenient, and sometimes just out of habit.

Jamie had been in love with Teddy Lupin since he was about fourteen years old and suddenly realized that the reason he didn’t give a damn about girls was because he cared very much about boys. Not that Teddy knew about this crush, of course. Some secrets, as any good Secret Keeper would tell you, were worth taking to the grave.

“There!” Jamie exclaimed. “It’s Professor Longbottom!”

“Harry,” Professor Longbottom called out, “did you lock yourself out again?” Then, as he drew closer: “Oh, I do apologize. I thought you were my roommate.”

“Well, there is a good reason for that,” Jamie said smugly. “I’m his son, from the future. James Sirius Potter,” he said, sticking out his hand.

Professor Longbottom, looking rather astonished and uncomfortable, did not shake it.

“Well, that’s a new one,” Professor Longbottom mused.

“Well done, Jamie,” Teddy drawled. “Listen,” he said to the professor, “I solemnly swear that this idiot could only be a Potter.”

Neville Longbottom’s eyes widened. “You… solemnly swear?” he asked, and Teddy nodded.

“Indeed. You’ll have met me already, though. Teddy Lupin. You and Harry have me over sometimes when Gran Andie needs a break from my Marauderly shenanigans.”

“Indeed,” Professor Longbottom repeated. “Gentlemen, I think you had best come up with me.”

He cast a Patronus – in the middle of the street! – and told it to have Harry come home immediately.

The inside of the flat was tidy, and Professor Longbottom offered them both tea and told them to sit on the couch.

“So I become a professor?” he asked when Jamie politely thanked him.

Teddy glared at Jamie and mouthed, “Well done!”

“Er, yes. Herbology. But I wouldn’t count my chickens just yet.”

That was when Jamie’s parents showed up.


	5. Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite oblivious dumdum is here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for the delay in posting. First, I lost the contents of the chapter and had to toally rewrite it from scratch. Then, I was in hospital for a week taking care of my mental health. (Don't worry, everything is fine now.)
> 
> I absolutely appreciate every hit, kudo, and comment that has been left on this story. It's heartening to know that people are taking this journey with me, and I am so grateful when you let me know it! It makes the writing easier and so much more fun when I know there are people waiting for it.

Harry and Ginny were at the Quidditch shop when they got a Patronus from Neville, asking them to return home immediately. They glanced at each other, full of fear, and left the shop without another word, though the customers were whispering about “The Boy Who Lived! Really, that was him!” It never occurred to Harry to tell Ginny that she should not follow for her own safety. She would never have stood for it anyhow.

They apparated home as soon as they could, to find Neville in the living room, drinking tea with two strange men.

“What’s going on here?” Harry asked in his best “Defeater of Voldemort” voice, wand held at the ready and Ginny by his side.

“Harry, Ginny,” Neville said calmly, “this is Teddy Lupin and James Sirius Potter. They’ve come to visit us from the future.”

Harry did not lower his wand. “Who’s come to what now?!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Catch up, Potter,” she said, and then addressed Neville. “I assume that you have some proof that they’re not just crazed fans?”

“They’ve said some things,” Neville assured her a little defensively. “Things they wouldn’t know about otherwise.”

The one claiming to be Teddy sighed. “You used to watch me when Gran Andie needed a break. I would make pig noses to make you laugh.”

“Prove it,” Harry said.

Teddy sighed again, then shifted, his nose elongating and flattening out into that of a pig. He made a couple of snuffling grunts.

Harry laughed, and lowered his wand.

“All right,” he said. “So that means you’re…”

“James Sirius Potter,” the other man said, standing up with a grin and holding out his hand, which Harry shook firmly.

“You’re really taking too much pleasure in this, Jamie,” Teddy muttered, and Harry had to agree.

“How in Merlin’s shaggy beard did you time travel?” Ginny wanted to know. “Even if I hadn’t seen all the time turners destroyed, they wouldn’t be able to bring you back over twentysomething years.”

“Jamie,” Teddy said with an ironic twist to his smile and tone, “would you like to field this one?”

Jamie looked sheepish, but defiant, and very eerily like Harry did when he was being called out by Ginny. He supposed it would be pretty cool if he’d had twenty years to get used to the idea, but as things stood, it was more than a little creepy.

“I don’t even know where to start with this?” Harry admitted aloud. “How did you go back twentysomething years in time?”

“Who sent you?” Ginny asked at the same time.

“What did you come to do?” was Neville’s contribution.

“One at a time,” Teddy said, holding up his hands. “Jamie?”

Jamie sighed. “I was on a mission. Routing out Neo-eaters."

“What are--?” Harry began.

“The new order of Death Eaters. Kids who think Old Voldy had the right idea. They prance about in black robes and get Dark Marks tattooed on their arms, and harass Muggles for kicks. Anyway, I just stumbled on them, without my partner, so of course the jackoffs got away. But not before I found this.”

Jamie gestured to Teddy, who pulled out an object which, at first glance, appeared to be a perfectly normal antique brass alarm clock. But Harry had been in the magical world for too long now to trust in ordinary looking objects. He, Ginny, and Neville instantly began waving their wands, casting diagnostic spells. They weren’t professionals, but they could learn a few things.

“So, this really is a time machine,” Ginny said incredulously.

“It’s very old,” Neville added with a confused frown. “When was this made?”

“1519,” Harry said, and they all looked at him funny. “It says so on the back,” he pointed out, “along with this funny looking symbol.”

Ginny and Neville both exclaimed separate aspects of Merlin’s anatomy when they looked where Harry pointed.

“Leonardo da Vinci!” Neville exclaimed. “How did you get this?”

“Wait,” Harry frowned, “da Vinci was a wizard?”

“Harry!” Ginny rolled her eyes, “did you literally never pay attention in History of Magic?”

“For someone who’s always on my case…” Jamie mumbled.

“Okay, back on track now,” Teddy said with some annoyance. “Yes, it’s a da Vinci. Jamie here took it upon himself to steal it from the Department of Mysteries and use it.”

Ginny’s face was beginning to turn red, like it usually did when she was about to explode. “Merlin’s twisted bollocks, James Sirius Potter! What on earth were you thinking! The Department of Mysteries?! They’ll kill you, or worse!”

“Have they got another one?” Neville asked.

“No,” said Teddy. “This is the only one.”

Neville looked relieved. “So at least we don’t have to worry about them showing up at our doorstep. That just leaves one important question: why here? Why now?”

“We’ve come to get Harry Potter,” said Teddy. “We need you to go back in time with us to 1979 to defeat Voldemort.”

Harry almost thought about asking why him, but that would have been a silly question. It had always been him. So instead he asked, “Why 1979?”

“Well, we agreed that killing evil babies is still wrong,” Jamie said, and Teddy rolled his eyes and shoved the other man.

“We figured we could save the most lives then. With the help of Harry Potter and the whole of the First Order, we should be able to distract the Death Eaters long enough to destroy all the Horcuxes.”

Ginny was off on a rant about how stupid they all were, and how this was what she and Tonks got for marrying a Potter and a Lupin and perpetuating Marauder genes. Neville was trying to ask questions, but they were mostly sidelined by Ginny’s ranting.

Harry said, “1980. Maybe late ’79, but I’m thinking early 1980. And the person we need to find most is Regulus Black.”

Everyone shut up, then, and stared at him. But Harry was used to that. He was the Boy Who Lived, after all.


	6. Remus Lupin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius fucking Black, earning that rating again.

Something was not right.

Sirius had been distant for the last two weeks that Remus was home, the two of them slipping past each other in the hall like strangers because Remus was hurt, but inclined to give his lover space if that was what he needed. Sirius had always been a lonely processor. In school, Remus would often find him on the Map in the strangest places, only to find out later that he’d had a letter from home and needed to get his feelings out. When Sirius didn’t have the time or space to process his feelings, that’s when he would start picking fights.

After the second week, Remus began to wish for a fight, if only to initiate contact once more, to feel that closeness with Sirius that he hadn’t missed this badly since the Incident with Snape. But he was patient, and gave Sirius his space. When Sirius was ready, when he was done processing whatever was bothering him, he would be back again, larger than life again, and ready for whatever came their way.

Remus was making tea when he heard Lola pull up and, even through everything, he still found himself with a smile on his face by the time the door opened. He listened as Sirius hung up his coat, and put his keys in the bowl with a loud clink, and kicked off his boots with a clomp.

Remus couldn’t help the flutter in his heart every time he saw Sirius Black. He was, after all, Sirius Black: slightlĺy shorter than Remus, with long black hair that begged to be pulled, and a pouty lower lip that begged to be bitten, and silvery eyes rimmed with black that always held a little bit of mischief in them no matter how sincere he was being.

Now, Remus saw, there was quite a bit of both mischief and sincerity in Sirius’s eyes as the other man entered the kitchen, turned off the kettle, and led him by the hand to the couch. They fell together, with a huff, and were instantly attached at the mouth, pawing at each other with a teenage vigor the likes of which had not been seen in over a month. Remus’s trousers and pants hit the floor before he could even wonder what had gotten into his lover, and Sirius was kissing down his chest and belly, lower –

“Augh, Merlin’s fuzzy nipples!” a voice shouted from the door, and the two of them shot up to see Prongs covering his face with his hands. “Don’t you two have a bedroom?”

“Well, it’s not as though we were expecting company,” Sirius said a little irritably as he watched Remus throw his clothes back on.

Remus, ever practically, responded with a security question: “Who lost the map in seventh year?”

Prongs rolled his eyes, “I did, to Filch, and thanks ever so for never letting it go, Moony. I know it’s really you two, no Death Eater would be caught dead boinking on that sofa.”

“Did you come here just to insult Bertha and cockblock me?” Sirius drawled.

“Well, I needed to call a Marauders’ meeting, good sirs, but as I can see you two are busy I will just return later.”

And, with that, James was gone, and they were left wondering what on Earth had just happened. Or at least Remus was. Sirius instantly went for the clothing he had just put back on, stripping him in three seconds flat. Prongs’s interruption had not dulled his ardor a whit, and he looked up at Remus with eyes that were dark and intense.

“I love you,” Sirius said. “No matter what, I will always love you.”

And, with this baffling statement, he began to slowly lick and suck his way down the length of Remus’s cock.

That’s when the door burst open for the second time that evening.

“Oh, fuck off, Prongs!” Remus and Sirius shouted, but it wasn’t James after all: it was five strange men and a red-haired woman, all of whom looked troublingly familiar for strangers. The tallest of them had turquoise hair, which shifted to a brassy gold as he covered his eyes with his hands.

“Oh, bloody hell!” he exclaimed.

“Fucking nice way to greet your Dad, Tedward!” one of the dark skinned men exclaimed, with a big, Prongs-like grin.

Remus and Sirius, who were still in varied states of undress and disarray, had got their wands out as soon as they realized that it was not Prongs at the door. Now, Remus saw that there had been a mistake. Perhaps these people were drunk, and had stumbled into the wrong flat.

“I do beg your pardon,” he said with as much politeness as a man who’s been interrupted twice and was covering his bits with a couch pillow could muster. “There seems to have been some mistake.”

“No mistake,” the red haired woman said jovially. “We’re here to find Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. And, oh boy, did we ever!”

The tallest – Tedward? – squeaked, having uncovered his eyes a bit. “All the gods, but would you two put your clothes back on?!”

“What’s it to you?” Sirius demanded, contrary as ever.

“That’s my Da!” the tall man shouted, while the shortest of the men – who looked very suspiciously like Prongs – added, “And my godfather! Please, Professor, I mean, Remus, could you tell him to just…?”

Remus took a deep breath and said, “Right. Everyone just calm down. You lot get outside for a moment, if you really mean us no harm, and when we’re set to rights I’ll let you back in.”

“Perfect!” the one called Tedward nodded, knocking into the door in his haste to get out. The red haired woman and the one who looked a bit like Frank Longbottom’s long lost brother were holding onto each other’s shoulders trying to keep calm as the taller dark-skinned James clone told the shorter one, “History is fun, en't it, Pops?”

They mercifully shut the door behind them, and Remus felt as though he could breathe again.

“Right,” he said to Sirius, but he didn’t quite know how to follow the word up.

“Well, they’re not Death Eaters,” Sirius said, and Remus agreed. “Not Muggles either. And, is it just me, or do they all look slightly like someone else we know?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Remus said excitedly. “Two of them look like they could be James himself, and another looks a bit like Frank Longbottom.”

“And the girl looks like a Weasley if I ever saw one, but everyone knows Weasleys don’t make girls.”

Remus hadn’t thought of it, but now that Sirius mentioned it he could see the resemblance.

“I don’t know of any spell that can make someone look slightly like they’re related to someone else,” Remus mused as he started the kettle. “Do you think it’s safe to let them back in?”

“I think we had better,” Sirius said. He held out his hand. “Together?”

Remus grasped it tightly and nodded. “Together.”


End file.
